


Chocolātl

by HunterPeverell



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Gen, Historical References, Mostly Fluff, Pre-Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Small side of angst, kind of, not very much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21793426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterPeverell/pseuds/HunterPeverell
Summary: Crowley returns from a long voyage with a gift for a certain angel…
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Chocolātl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mmouse15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmouse15/gifts).



> Mmouse15’s b-day gift! Her prompt: Cocoa. My response: H I S T O R Y F U N T I M E S
> 
> PLEASE DO NOT POST TO OTHER SITES!

Crowley stepped off the boat, clutching his gift to his chest. Around him, the human sailors were busy off-loading crates of goods stolen from the Americas. The demon snorted softly and sauntered away.

Shipmen Antonio Crulí would never be heard from again in those parts. He would never be found in any of the ship’s logs, and the sailors would barely remember him in a few days time.

Amazing, what a little demonic miracle could do.

He arrived in Paris a week or so later, to the place Aziraphale was staying, in a town called Nantes.

“Angel!” he called as he pounded on the door.

“Just a moment!” he heard Aziraphale reply.

About a minute later, the angel pulled open the door, and Crowley laid eyes on him for the first time in about a decade.

Aziraphale’s face split into a wide smile. “Oh, Crowley! Do come in, come in!”

The angel led him inside, to rooms filled with books and a warm crackling fireplace. The room smelled of lavender.

“It is so wonderful to see you, my dear,” the angel said as he bustled about. “Tea? Biscuits?”

“Wouldn’t say no to a bit of brandy,” Crowley said.

“ _Really,_ Crowley? At this time of day?”

“Been a while since we’ve drunk together,” Crowley protested.

Aziraphale leveled a dry look at him, but headed for a cabinet nevertheless. “So, what _have_ you been up to?”

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” said Crowley, examining a bookshelf. There were a few titles he wasn’t familiar with. “Went to the Americas with a Spanish expedition. Got you something.”

There came an appraising look, filled with surprise and cautious delight. “You did?”

“Yep.” Crowley popped his ‘p’ and pulled out the tin.

Aziraphale approached slowly, taking the tin. “What is it, m’dear?” 

Crowley drank in the sight of the little crease between his brows, the way his clever, plump fingers turned the tin this way and that. “New discovered thing,” he replied. “For the European humans, that is. The natives call is ‘chocolātl’. Dunno what the English’ll call it.”

Aziraphale opened the tin and took a sniff. “Doesn’t smell, er…”

“Smells like wet dirt, huh?” Crowley’s lips quirked up. “Yeah. There’s a brew the humans over there make. Want to try?”

The angel gave the tin a dubious look, but let Crowley take it back and head for the fireplace to boil some water.

“So,” said Crowley while the water heated up. “What have I been missing?”

“Well, that Magellan fellow has headed off on some voyage for spices,” Aziraphale said, pouring them both a bit of brandy.

“Bit of a long journey for some flavorings,” Crowley said. “What, the Road not enough for him?”

“I believe the Portugese are unhappy with the exorbitant prices.”

“Could see that,” Crowley said, frowning at the water. It began to heat up quicker. He accepted his glass and a nod.

“And, well…” At the angel’s hesitant tone, Crowley looked up and narrowed his eyes. “Leonardo da Vinci has just died.”

Crowley stilled, then sighed. “I suspected he might. Lived rather long for a human.”

“That he did,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley glared fiercely at the water, which began boiling fearfully. Then he downed the rest of his brandy.

Suddenly, there was a hand on Crowley’s arm, and Crowley looked over to meet the blue eyes of the angel. There was understanding there, and gentle understanding. Crowley could only look at him for a moment before he had to look away.

Still, as he fixed Aziraphale a cup of chocolātl, he felt calmer.

“There,” he said cheerfully. “Slightly sweetened, nice and warm.”

Aziraphale accepted the cup and took a sip. His eyebrows rose and he hummed slightly, taking his cup to the well-worn armchair before the fire. Crowley followed him to the couch, and watched as the angel took his first sip.

“Oh!”

Crowley felt helpless as sheer, unadulterated joy spread across Aziraphale’s face. The room seemed to grow brighter, and the fire warmer, as the angel basked in the new delightful taste.

“Oh, Crowley,” he said, wiggling slightly in his chair. “This is _lovely._ ”

“I’m glad you like it,” Crowley managed to croak.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and took in another deep breath and let out the most beautiful little sigh Crowley had ever heard.

“Thank you, my dear friend,” breathed Aziraphale.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, Crowley wanted to lean in, to wrap his essence into Aziraphale’s and drink in all the angel’s love, and it looked, just for a moment, that Aziraphale might want that, too, to bridge the gap between them, and—

But they couldn’t. There was too much separating them. Too much pressure, too much expectation, too much duty… 

So they stayed where they were, opposite each other, and Crowley watched as Aziraphale took another sip of the dark, warm drink.

“Anytime, angel,” he murmured. “Anytime.”


End file.
